Coffee
by Bliss Jones
Summary: Two cups of coffee. Two different lives. Future fic. Josh and Donna.


Disclaimers: 'The West Wing' and all its characters are the property of Aaron Sorkin and John Wells Productions. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
Note: written without having seen any WW episode since The Long Good-Bye. No spoilers.  
  
****  
  
He's late.  
  
Or maybe she's early. She always used to be early. She checks her watch. He still has seven minutes to get there. She knows she'll be lucky if he makes it by a quarter past. She laughs at the number seven. Silently, of course, to her self. She doesn't want the waitress to look at her funny. But seven. How appropriate. The number of years since they've last seen each other.  
  
She thinks now that maybe coffee wasn't the best idea. Coffee was too finite. Coffee says, I don't have a lot of time for you. She should have suggested lunch.  
  
She wants to do one last mirror check but she knows the moment she opens her compact he'll be there. She doesn't want him to think she's primping. She settles for a studied glance into the reflection the window casts. Her blue sweater is a bright contrast to the dull black clouds and umbrellas outside.  
  
She doesn't hear the bell ring over the door when it opens. She doesn't see the figure standing there searching. By the time she notices, he is already heading toward the table. She begins to regret coming.  
  
She softens. He still swaggers. She smiles.  
  
"Donna."  
  
She half stands and accepts the kiss he offers to her cheek. She is embarrassed for a moment. She recovers as he hangs his coat over his chair.  
  
"God, it's good to see you." He is the same.  
  
"You, too. I'm so glad you called." Then she sees it - the grey hairs that weren't there seven years ago, the lines across his face from too much stress.  
  
"I should have done it sooner. I've been meaning to every time I come here." He motions to the waitress. Their drink orders haven't changed. Coffee, one cream, two sugars. Coffee, no cream, one sugar. She smiles at the memory.  
  
"So what are you doing in town?" she inquires. She doesn't really want to know. She wants this whole meeting to be over. She wants to get back to the life she's created in these last seven years without him.  
  
"Fund-raising. What else?" He hangs his head at his last words.  
  
"How's your mom?"  
  
"She's good. She's making new friends at the nursing home."  
  
"Nursing home?" She always liked his mother.  
  
"Yeah, I had to move her their after she had a stroke."  
  
"Oh, Josh, I'm sorry to hear that."  
  
"Thanks. She's doing better now. She loves bingo." For a moment he is somewhere else. "I didn't think I'd ever see my mother play bingo." He swallows hard.  
  
She doesn't know what to say.  
  
"Anyway, I'm only here until tomorrow. There's a dinner downtown tonight and a breakfast meeting with the mayor in the morning. I wanted to be sure to see you before I left."  
  
"How's Sam?" She can't think of what else to say.  
  
"He's good. Enjoying the life of a politician."  
  
"How come you don't run his office?"  
  
"We had a disagreement over a nuclear arms treaty. He wouldn't talk to me for a week."  
  
"A disagreement? What was there to disagree about?"  
  
"It's complicated," he says and that's all he says.  
  
And then she remembers. The coffee comes and she remembers how small she used to feel next to him. How inconsequential everything in her life became when she was walking the halls with him in the West Wing. She remembers the day. The last day.  
  
"Donna?" He interrupts before she can fall too far back into the past.  
  
"Sorry. How's Toby?"  
  
He chuckles. "Do you talk to anyone who used to work in the White House?"  
  
"No." That's all she says and all she needs to say.  
  
"Oh."  
  
There is a silence. He plays with the empty sugar pack. She watches her coffee swirl with each turn of the spoon.  
  
"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean for this to be awkward."  
  
"It's not awkward," she protests, lying.  
  
"It is. I shouldn't have come." He turns to get his coat.  
  
"It's just-" She stops. He waits. She knows what he's waiting for. He's expecting an explanation. He doesn't realize that she's been waiting seven years for one, too.  
  
"It's just been a while, that's all," she says, changing her mind. The truth sounds better when it's not spoken out loud, she decides. She can't tell him what she wanted to say.  
  
"I need to get back," he excuses. He reaches for his wallet. She doesn't stop him. Equal rights be damned, she thinks.  
  
He's barely touched his coffee. He always liked to let it cool down a lot before taking the first sip. She thinks he didn't have any now.  
  
"It was good to see, Donna," he says slowly. She wishes he meant it. Maybe he does. She can't tell anymore.  
  
She doesn't stand. She doesn't say anything. He's over her now, looming over her tiny frame seated next to a window at a local cafe. He doesn't know what her life's been like since he left her. She does not think he realizes what he did when he left without her.  
  
When he puts the money on the tabletop, she notices the ring on his finger. She can't stop staring at it.  
  
"I'm sorry," he says and leaves. She doesn't know what he's sorry for. Sorry for coming. Sorry for marrying. Sorry for leaving. Sorry for everything. It doesn't matter now.  
  
He doesn't turn around as he walks through the door. She tries to follow him with her eyes as he makes his way through the crowd. He doesn't have an umbrella.  
  
She looks at the two coffee cups sitting in front of her. She doesn't drink from hers. She can't understand how two cups of coffee can mean so much in the life of two people. She wishes he had stayed, but is happier now that he's gone. 


End file.
